


Tele-Romeo

by GMTYUniverse



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mention of Niall - Freeform, Phone Sex, Some Fluff, kind of, mostly just describing jerking off though, some teensy bit of angst for like one sentence if you squint, wankfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMTYUniverse/pseuds/GMTYUniverse
Summary: Harry and Louis have only just shared ‘i love you’ with each other, when Louis gets accepted for an internship - in Australia.Louis is off to the other side of the world - refusing to be Rachel - and that means Harry is left to his own devices. Except not really, because Louis would quite like to seduce Harry to a bit of sexting. It's just that Harry isn't all that sure about what he's doing - until he does. Graceful wanking ensues.





	Tele-Romeo

**Author's Note:**

> I've been terrible at writing and making sure to upload stuff - also because my laptop's been broken so I'm doing this from my phone lol. My life's a mess, and I'm sorry if that reflects in my fic being a mess as well.  
> It was good practice for me to write a bit more... sexy times as that's not something I'm normally good at and therefore usually avoid in longer fics. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> ~~ 
> 
> Title taken from all-time classic Tele-Romeo by K3.

Harry is flustered.

Not the “I did something stupid and now I have to deal with the consequences” kind of flustered.

No, it’s a little more of an… _explicit_ variant of flustered. A little higher on the ‘I have a very hot boyfriend who apparently isn’t shy’ scale of things.

And it’s not as if Harry’s a prude, or anything. It’s just that he’s not used to _this_. Louis is his first proper boyfriend. It had taken Harry until he was in university to realise that maybe he was also attracted to men.

And particularly the one who’d been sitting in front of him in his sociology classes. A brown-haired guy who was always asking questions and taking notes, but Harry could see him comment on LadBible posts during each class just as well. He’d tried reigning in his curiosity, but eventually he’d found himself leaning in just a little so he could see the boy’s name.

Louis Tomlinson. At first, Harry had told himself he was just curious – but then the curiosity quickly spiralled into Harry giggling out loud as he religiously looked up Louis’ comments under the posts after class.

It had been addictive, and within days Harry had started leaning in once again so he could read Louis’ comments as he wrote them out in real time. Except then Harry had snorted out loud, and Louis had turned around and suddenly Harry had found himself pinned down by the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

And he’d realised in that very moment, as his heartbeat came to a thundering halt for a long second, that _oh_ he was attracted to Louis. That Louis was probably the prettiest man that Harry had every laid eyes on.

Luckily, also the best person. He hadn’t humiliated Harry, or made him out to be a creep. Instead, he had just given him a small nod and a mischievous smile before angling his body so Harry could read his comments better.

And then once class had ended, he’d turned around and asked Harry if he wanted to have coffee with him. Not that Harry actually drank coffee but he had gladly pretended for that very first date.

They’d exchanged numbers with the promise of studying together, only Louis made immediate use of it to ask Harry to a party. Turned out that it was a party being hosted by the LGBT club on campus, and Harry hadn’t really known what to think, until Louis had showed up with glitter on his cheekbones.

He hadn’t had time to think about anything except that Louis looked divine, and that he wanted to kiss him.

It’d been about six months, and Louis had been incredibly patient and sweet as Harry discovered a part of himself he hadn’t really ever given much thought to.

Except just as their relationship had started becoming more serious – they’d met each other’s parents and all that – Louis had gotten accepted into an internship programme. In Australia. Which was great, of course. Harry’s really proud of him for getting in, and they’d celebrated accordingly.

But it also means that Harry is now in a serious long distance relationship for the first time in his life. On the one hand he’s happy they’re that serious about each other to want to give it a go, but on the other hand – it’s _seriously_ long distance. It’s not like Harry can afford to fly out to Australia just like that. They’re really going to be apart for 6 months and the idea alone is agony to Harry.

But Louis had told him that ‘it is what it is’, and that they’d definitely be able to get through it. According to him, they were like Monica and Chandler - not Rachel and Ross. Boy, did Louis have opinions about Rachel and Ross. He’d even told Harry once he’d gotten the news that no matter how much he liked Harry – he wasn’t going to give up on this opportunity for him. Which he was absolutely right to say, and asking Louis not to go had definitely never been something Harry had considered.

He quite likes the idea of them being Monica and Chandler. Their relationship is solid, and Harry is hopeful his and Louis’ is the same.

There’s just one tiny aspect about them surviving the time apart that Harry hadn’t exactly considered much.

Sexting.

And Harry has definitely seen Louis naked – obviously – and he is _not_ a prude. It’s just a little world altering when there’s someone you consider to be the hottest person in the entire universe asking you to ‘show off your belly’ at about 11AM in the morning. The clock that Harry has installed on his phone informs him that it’s late for Louis, and that he might be in bed. The thought alone sends shivers up his spine.

Harry knows it’s stupid, because this is _Louis_ and he’s experienced so many firsts with him, and he’s always been nothing but great. But he still feels completely out of his depth – he doesn’t want to misunderstand it, doesn’t want to ruin the mood by texting back something stupid, doesn’t want Louis to lose interest. 

He wants to be good at this. Wants to be able to get Louis off, be the one to make him come even from all the way around the world. He wants, wants, _wants_. 

There’s no guidelines here, and he doesn’t quite know whether Louis is actually even serious about him showing ‘more belly’. He’s clearly referring to Harry posting a photo on his Instagram story just earlier that day where he’d showed off just how badly he’d fucked up his laundry by washing it on too high a temperature. He’d pulled the shirt on for fun to demonstrate its now too small size.

It had been a joke. Except now Louis is asking for more skin, and Harry’s pretty sure _that_ is most definitely not a joke.

Thank God he doesn’t have class today, Harry thinks as he giggles to himself unsurely. He’s never been one to take a lot of shirtless photos, used to be a little embarrassed by the extra set of nipples on his skin. Not that he isn't confident nowadays about his body, but he is just a little self-conscious as he strips down, knowing there is clear intent behind it.

It’s making him feel strangely vulnerable, standing in front of his mirror naked, save for his jeans. He tries to angle his phone just so, making sure his tummy is in the frame. Then he decides that it’s probably better not to spend hours agonising over getting the photo right, and just immediately sends the first picture he takes.

Within seconds, there’s a reply. Harry bites his lip as he scrambles to open it, taking a seat on his bed.

_“love that, you look good babe.”_

He can’t help but smile wide at that. Another text comes through right after. “ _Miss you.”_

Harry’s heart aches. He misses Louis too. A lot. He misses everything about him. The physical aspect, sure – especially since he feels there’s so much to discover still about his own likes and dislikes, so much to try. But he also just misses the intimacy, cuddling up to Louis, sleeping right next to him, waking up together. He misses talking to him about the most mundane things as they pop up in his head, misses making assignments together and discussing boring theory together to make it fun.

It’s weird, how on the precipice of saying I love you, they’d been pushed off the deep-end by the impending distance between them. It could’ve blown up in their faces. Instead, Harry had blown Louis by the end of that conversation.

So they’re giving it a go, this long-distance thing. It’s a little harder than Harry initially thought – especially because as it turns out, Australian wi-fi is shit. They tried to Skype once but it was a disaster and only left Harry more frustrated than happy at having seen Louis’ pixelated face.

 _‘Miss you too.’_ He sends back, and for a fleeting second he debates whether or not he can ask for a photo as well. In the end, he doesn’t have to – Louis sends him a selfie almost immediately in return.

His hair looks damp, fringe falling loosely over his forehead as if he’s just gotten out of the shower. The image plants itself in Harry’s head, and only becomes more vivid when he registers Louis’ bare chest showing off his tattoos and a patch of chest hair.

It’s so hot – wet, freshly showered Louis is probably one of his favorite versions of Louis - and he misses him so much and God – why is he making this such a big deal? If anything, texting about sex should be much less intimidating than actually doing it.

Harry rubs his chin, contemplating what he should write. He sighs in defeat before anxiously pulling up Google. He doesn't want to let this moment go to waste and just the idea of getting off with Louis – even through text messages and photos only is already getting him half-hard.

“How to sext" he types in, huffing uncomfortably as he realises how sad that search history term must make him look. The advice is pretty straight-forward, and nothing Harry hadn’t already thought of himself. As if he’d suddenly decide to a send a photo of his cock to Louis out of the blue. He’s not entirely clueless. It’s not the advice he’s looking for. What he needs, desperately, is a cheat sheet.

What is he supposed to text that’s enticing and sexy, without sounding weird or creepy? It’s easier when he gets to see Louis, and he can just kind of go with whatever Louis is saying or doing as they get swept up in the moment.

Now he’s being forced to think about it and reflect on what he’s going to send, and it’s making him antsy.

It’s almost like Louis can sense his hesitancy, because his phone pings once more. “ _miss touching you.”_

At least he can answer to that. _“Me too.”_

Louis texts back faster than Harry can question whether his reply was too boring, too safe.  

“ _Miss you touching me too.”_

It’s enough to get Harry completely hard, and he can’t resist but palm himself through his jeans. He wishes he could just reach out and touch Louis, but this will have to do.

_‘Miss that too. So much.’_

There’s a long pause then, and for a second Harry wonders if he’s fucked things up somehow. Maybe he didn’t take enough initiative, maybe Louis fell asleep because he was so bored? There are a million different scenarios running through his head, but then his phone pings again.

_“If you want, you could tell me. What you miss, where you’d touch me. Record a voicenote.”_

It’s an open invitation that on the one hand scares the shit out of Harry, but on the other hand – maybe talking will make this easier for him. Because God does Harry want to get off with Louis, get Louis off with dirty talk just how he’s able to do when they’re together in bed.

It’s just a little odd, knowing that he’ll have to wait for Louis to compose a reply. A lot less impulsive, and a lot more nerve-wracking when he’ll have time to worry about the reaction. Then again, he can’t take back a voice recording once he’s started it – so at least he can’t really overthink what he’s saying in the moment.

So he makes a decision.

“NIALL!” He yells.

There’s no response from his roommate, which must mean he’s out. Good That means one obstacle has been cleared.

The next decision Harry makes, feels a lot more weighted. He takes off his jeans. Harry feels incredibly exposed and awkward as he goes about it, but he pushes through. He’s already uncomfortable in them as is and if all goes well, he’ll end up tugging one off to either seeing Louis or hearing Louis’ voice and he’ll want to be naked and comfortable for that.

Finally, he resolves to sit on his bed, propped up by some pillows – bottle of lube right next to him. It feels … very intentional and prepared, and Harry isn’t sure if he’s feeling hot out of horniness or out of some weird form of shame over setting up like this. But either way, he kind of likes the feeling that’s settling over him. Like he’s doing something naughty.

Harry clears his throat, then realises that he hasn’t texted Louis back at all. Which has apparently gotten Louis all worked up, because there’s a missed voice call. As shitty as the reception is, Harry feels really bad for having missed the opportunity to hear Louis’ voice live.

‘ _Harry? You still there?’_

He fumbles on Whatsapp until he hits the recording option. ‘Hi, uh, still here – sorry. I was trying to get – well. Situated?’

Harry hates how unsure he sounds, but the truth is that he has no idea what he’s doing. All he knows is that he _wants_ to do it. He’s still hard, and he’s still missing Louis’ touch.

Within seconds, there’s a voice note. From Louis. Harry presses play immediately.

“Situated hm?” Harry can just hear the smug smile threatening to take over Louis’ face. He imagines him smirking directly at Harry, and he can already feel himself get more worked up. “Tell me exactly how you’ve got yourself situated, then.”  

Now this - this feels like familiar territory, Louis encouraging Harry to just say what he wants to say.

‘Sitting on my bed – our bed, really, on your side. Uh, just wearing boxers. Got rid off my jeans for you,’ Harry grins into the microphone.

“Yeah? I can imagine you leaning back, pillows behind your back. All comfortable. ‘m lying in bed too. Just got out of the shower. Not wearing anything,” Louis voice drops off in the next voice message. Harry already knows he’s going to savour that for ages.

‘That picture – God, you looked so hot Lou. Kind of wish I could lick the last drops of water right off your collarbones,’ Harry sighs. He can hear the way his voice deepens just at the thought of it, delirious from lust.

Harry sends off his voice note and immediately reaches for the lube. Sometimes he likes a rougher slide, but right now he’s going to want to replicate Louis – and he loves it when Harry gets a bit messy. _Harry_ loves it when he makes him all messy.

He wriggles his hand inside his boxers and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. He gives a small squeeze just to stave off the initial desire to get lost in it all. He wants to memorize this. He wants to listen to what Louis has to say. Watch whatever he sends his way.

“Yeah? I’d like that. Love that. Was thinking of you in the shower. How much I love it when you suck me off. Then I saw your photo. So hot.”

Harry’s grip tightens, as he moves his hand up and down his shaft – tempo rising as he moves up, then falling as his hand falls back. It’s different from his usual routine, but he likes the idea of building up the rhythm the same way Louis would do, which involves a lot more teasing.

There’s some desperation in the way he can’t help but shuffle in place, liking the way he can get some friction – feels the pressure of the pillows on his perineum as if it were Louis’ fingers lightly brushing past it.

He preens at the knowledge of Louis finding him hot. No matter how long they’ve been together -  which is quite long for Harry’s standards, yet not that long for Louis who’s had two serious long-term relationships already – it’s just so fucking good to hear him say it with such devotion in his voice.

‘Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to suck you off. Miss your cock,’ Harry groans out, feeling slightly embarrassed for the way he’s gone all breathy already.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers all together as he waits for Louis’ reply. It was nice to have that moment of slight entrapment in a confined space and being limited in his movements, but now he wants to be able to just wank freely. The boxers get stuck on his foot, hanging off of his toes. Harry swears under his breath, then smiles as he imagines Louis teasing him for having oddly shaped feet.

“Yeah? Miss your hands on my cock, especially when I’m so hard for you,” Louis’ voice has gone all raspy and it’s making Harry’s head spin.

‘Let me see,’ is all he sends back, almost growling it down the mic and he can’t even believe that he’s just sent that to Louis, is about to apologise when a picture comes through.

It’s Louis’ hand on his hard cock, almost an angry red as it firmly juts out from his body.  And Harry absolutely knows that this was only supposed to be the beginning, but – it’s the first time he’s received a dick pick and specifically of a dick he loves so dearly, and it’s just a lot.

Before he even realises it, he’s firmly tugging at his cock, stroking fast as he cups his balls with his other hand – phone lying next to him. With one final stroke upwards, he lightly presses the slit then closes his eyes as he lets his fingers trail back down to find the ridge of his head. Just like that, he’s coming all over himself – white strings catching on his palm, fingers sticking together while he strokes.

Harry half wishes he’d have been able to send a voice note of him moaning out Louis’ name, though he wonders how sexy that sounds out of context.

An embarrassed giggle escapes him as he realises how little it took to get him to come with Louis on his mind. He reaches over to his nightstand and gets out some tissues.

Right before he starts cleaning himself up, he suddenly realises that maybe he should – no. He casts a glance at his phone, then looks back down. His cock is starting to go soft, but there’s still some shape to it, he supposes. Besides, there are the clear signs he enjoyed seeing Louis’ photo.

Maybe he should. In a surge of impulsive confidence, Harry reaches for his phone and snaps a picture. It’s not very artistic, but at least it’s not blurry, he decides as he sends it to Louis.

 There’s a voice note he hadn’t seen before, sent right as Harry was hurtling over the edge. It’s Louis’ sex voice, except it sounds a little less certain as he usually does in bed. “Showed you mine, you show me yours?” Louis chuckles, the sound tickling Harry’s ears, making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand upright.

His cock twitches feebly, and Harry knows with the right … encouragement, he’ll be ready to go again.

Now he just waits, anxiously, for Louis’ reply to his explicit photo. Suddenly it dawns on him that he’s actually full on sexted now. Not just some dirty, racy text messages to rile each other up. Actual voice notes and photos that aren’t as easily deleted from existence. A rush of anxiety hits him as he starts considering how a potential break-up could ruin his career, but before he can lose himself in a spiral, his phone beeps.

“Ugh, Harry, you minx – fuuuuck,” he can hear Louis grunt as the sound of him jerking off increases, then suddenly stills.

It’s so fucking heavenly to listen to, so utterly hot and arousing that he immediately presses play again. He can imagine Louis’ facial expression, can picture him speeding up his movements as his eyes keep catching on the photo Harry had sent him, then coming all over his stomach.

He wishes he could’ve seen it in person. For now, listening to the sound will have to be enough.

‘I can’t believe we just did that.’

“I hope you don’t regret it,” Louis sends back, tacking on an awkward chuckle.

Weirdly enough, he doesn’t. As anxious as he was moments ago, he’s not _actually_ bothered by it. Because this is Louis. And he loves him, trusts him – he enjoyed this with him.

It’s easier to write that down than to say it, though. So he texts instead.

_Don’t regret it. Anxious about how one day if we break up maybe I would, but I know you wouldn’t ever spread this around._

Louis immediately starts typing the moment the check marks turn blue.

_I wouldn’t. Ever. If you’d like, we can delete these notes and pics from the chat? Wanna have you feel good about this. Not anxious._

Harry bites his lip as he overthinks the proposal, and ends up accepting on the condition he gets to keep Louis’ PG photo of his freshly showered face. Harry’s pretty sure he could rub one out just by staring at Louis’ eyelashes, if he’s honest.

_I miss you, though. Can’t even taste you. Can’t kiss you. Can’t laugh with you. Wasn’t half as fun when I dropped my lube and hit my head on my nightstand and you weren’t there to laugh at me._

It’s such a sweet confession, so _Louis_ to just type that out and send it on its merry way to Harry with so much love that it makes Harry’s heart hurt.

 _Hope you’re not hurt – can’t kiss it better if you are_ _☹_ _I had a very graceful wank apart from one boxer-getting-stuck-around-the-foot-area incident._

He can hear the pout in Louis’ voice as he records another voice note – telling Harry some story about his very graceful first meeting with biking the other day that almost ended in an accident because of some birds attacking him. It sounds only a little strange, but it’s not like Harry cares about the credibility of it all. He loves the way Louis so effortlessly switches topics, loves how he normalizes what they did, making Harry feel confident and comfortable - like it's not a big deal. 

All he cares about really, is hearing Louis’ voice, for a glorious 6 minutes and 52 seconds, that he gets to save and listen to over and over again – just for him. 

He’s halfway through his second play of Louis mentioning he needs to wear a helmet with an umbrella on top of it to protect from the birds, when he suddenly feels like crying.

It just sucks real bad that this is all they’re going to have for the next couple of months. And as exhilarating as the sexting was, it’s not the same thing at all as touching or being touched by Louis. No soft skin against skin, no sweat, no contact.

 _This is going to be really hard._ He writes out. _In a non-sexy way. But only because you’re so perfect and I love you. Also I bet you’d still look sexy in an umbrella-covered helmet._

It’s quiet for a bit, and Harry can see the dots appear and disappear a couple of times. Then a message comes through.

_I love you too. Would it be too corny to ask you to record that for me?_

Cheekily, Harry presses down on his phone’s touch screen and repeats: “You look sexy in an umbrella-covered helmet”.

In return, he receives a beautiful close-up of Louis’ middle finger.

“Love you.”

‘Love you, Hazza,’ he gets back. Those three words, recorded against the backdrop of rustling sheets become the most listened-to lullaby Harry’s ever known.

Until he manages to scrape enough money together to book a flight and visit Louis in Sydney, where he records his nightly snuffles.

Maybe it’s not the sexiest sound in the world, but it sure is the homiest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~  
> Leave a comment or kudo if you like, and/or reblog  this post on Tumblr  :)


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